


A Silent Interlude

by BatchSan



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Peter Pan (1953), Tarzan (1999)
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Fantasizing, Femslash, Masturbation, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 18:59:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16101803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatchSan/pseuds/BatchSan
Summary: Wendy is quiet.





	A Silent Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Wendy is about 15-ish here.
> 
> Random pairing is random but still cute. =3

Wendy is quiet. Careful and quiet as her fingers trace the silk trimmings of her nightshirt. It's comforting, familiar, but it sends thrills along her skin as if it were new and perhaps a bit forbidden. It certainly wasn't appropriate, she knew. Possibly it was forbidden as well, especially given that she was not alone in the room. There were things she understood at fifteen that were considered inappropriate and this was most certainly one. The knowledge was one she had known for some time now, at least three years, if not five.

Her fingers played with her silk trimmings as she listened to the dark around her. Nana's snores were the easiest sound to pick out, followed by the snores from Michael's bed. John's soft whisper of breath was easy to overlook to the untrained ear - Wendy had most certainly trained her ears well by this point in her young life. In the darkness, she could hear her parents turn in their beds and further out, she could hear a man laugh and a dog bark from somewhere past the property line of her parents' house.

Sometimes she pretended she heard a boy who refused to grow up, hover outside her window, but that was a fancy all in her head. One imagination of millions. There'd been no boy outside of the nursery window in a long time, and even if there had been, Wendy didn't think she would much want to go with him anymore. Maybe she did, some part of her thought, but time changes minds and ideas and Wendy was no rule to the exception. 

Instead, when her eyes closed, she imagined a girl in her class. Pretty, quiet and eager to listen to her fanciful tales of pirates and boys who could fly. When she spoke, it was in excited tones about her father's work. Apparently, he studied many things but his greatest passion was for animals, especially of the gorilla kind. It was clear the girl had the same passion for the creatures and Wendy delighted in hearing of her speak about them. Sometimes Wendy incorporated them into her own tales - pirate gorillas that searched for the best trees in all the lands, hiding food beneath rocks where others would not find it without ease. The girl always delighted at these tales, adding her own parts to the story - renegade chimpanzees with swallows that sat on their shoulders, guiding them to X marks the spot, sabres always at the ready.

Their stories were ridiculous, and utterly amazing.

Satisfied she was the sole person awake at this late hour of night (a clock somewhere downstairs had chimed the hour some minutes ago), Wendy let her fingers hitch up her nightgown, careful to keep her movements silent and careful as always. Beneath she met no resistent as her fingers first found her already stiff peaks, sensitive enough to draw a light gasp from her lips. In her imagination, it was the girl from her class - Jane - doing it. She was unsure of her actions but eager to please Wendy. Jane's fingers would play at her sensitive buds, pulling and pinching them, nails scraping accidentally and on purpose all at once. She'd let her fingers play through Jane's copper hair, groaning her approval of her actions. It was Jane's fingers that then slid down the flat, soft expanse of her stomach to the curls moistening below.

Wendy paused to make sure all was still silent around her aside from the sounds she knew of.

Then Jane was speaking in a soft, innocent voice in her ear, 'May I touch you there?' As soon as Wendy gave her an affirmation, soft fingers rubbed at her thighs before sliding painstakingly slow to the apex of her thighs. Jane then slipped her fingers along the slit that she found before pushing past it, blushing when Wendy inhaled sharply at her actions. When Jane's fingers brushed against her most intimate and sensitive part of herself, Wendy felt about ready to explode into stars and drift up to mingle with her counterparts among the heavens. Instead, she imagined herself tugging Jane to her (she was always much too dressed in these fantasies, Wendy realized) and allowed their lips to meld as Jane's fingers set to work.

(drowning, Wendy felt - a good kind of drowning)

Then she was exploding into stars high above - somewhere nearby, a boy passed by her, on his way home - looking down at Earth. Jane was only in her mind but Wendy's pulse raced just the same as if she had really been the one to set her off. It would have been nice to know if it were possible for her to pull all the Wendy pieces back together, even if only to deconstruct her once again. There was more than a little part of her that knew Jane would be capable of it, if only she had the chance to. Or Wendy’s fanciful mind was eager to hope it so.

But Jane was a secret in her heart, the way a boy who never grew up still was. Perhaps, Wendy wondered, as she allowed her body to cool down, fingers slick against her stomach, it was time to find a way to let Jane in on her secret (the love part, not the fantasy part, not until later). While one never wanted to grow up, Wendy knew she and Jane must. In that, there was nothing wrong with doing it together, was there? 

No, Wendy decided, sleep beginning to tug at her mind. There was nothing wrong with doing it together, someday. 

(Jane kissed her goodnight, head resting against her heated skin.)


End file.
